


in yer dreams

by foxkillskat



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Time Skip, SakuAtsu, no beta we die like daichi, raise yer hand if ya dream about washing atsumu’s hair, short and sweet and sappy, showering together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28916697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxkillskat/pseuds/foxkillskat
Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi is not a dreamer — he’s a realist.And what’s real is Miya Atsumu making home in his sheets, in his shower, in his soul.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 157





	in yer dreams

**Author's Note:**

> yer (least) fave redneck, foxkillskat, here with a soft little moment fer ya 
> 
> yall ever find yerselves wantin so badly ya dream bout it?? only thing better is makin it real 😌
> 
> enjoy the mess!!

“Omi-kun?” Atsumu asks, and Kiyoomi knows what’s coming next.

“Can I take a shower with ya?”

There’s always that same question waiting for him when he wakes to Atsumu in his bed. It comes with a groggy voice and a nose pressed to his neck. It finds him with legs tangled in sheets and caught in each other. And it settles with equal parts want and hope, even though it’s only ever met with refusal.

No matter how many no’s Kiyoomi gives, no matter how many never’s, Atsumu asks again and again and again, his persistence endearing if nothing else.

Kiyoomi separates himself from his bed and its inhabitant, but he can’t look away. Not when Atsumu is blinking sleep from those heavy, drooping eyes. A smile spreads soft and slow across his florid cheeks until he has Kiyoomi holding tight to the headboard to steady weak knees.

“I had a dream” —Atsumu closes his eyes, chasing it— “we were in there together and you were washin’ my hair, and it felt so nice I never wanted it to end.”

“Huh,” is all Kiyoomi can manage.

“You ever want somethin’ so bad ya dream about it?” Atsumu sighs and buries his face into the mess of blankets.

“No.” Kiyoomi is not a dreamer — he’s a realist. “Never.”

“Maybe someday.” Atsumu hums, and Kiyoomi feels it deep within his own chest like it was planted there.

Someday. 

Some day like today.

“Shower with me,” Kiyoomi hears himself say. 

Three words gone from his mouth. Three words he can’t get back. Three words he might regret, if not for the ephemeral light they bring to Atsumu’s face. A pure, momentary blinding.

Time blurs past the stumbling out of sheets and stripping of clothes and brushing of teeth. And the next thing Kiyoomi sees is Atsumu cloaked in steam. When he breathes out, Atsumu breathes in, thick air shared back and forth between their lungs. The space isn’t big enough for two, not without knees knocking and elbows grazing, but it’s warm and clean and comforting, same as the soft blankets of the bed he no longer remembers leaving.

Something about the soap and the spray dulls the constant noise in Kiyoomi’s head. He can focus for once, feel with perfect clarity the way Atsumu’s hands slide down his sides, press into his back and his hips. And even though he tenses, those fingers sink in like they belong, making home in his flesh.

No matter how Kiyoomi tightens up, no matter how he shrinks back, Atsumu reaches out again and again and again, his persistence endearing if nothing else.

Kiyoomi can’t separate himself this time — he doesn’t want to. Not when Atsumu is pooling shampoo in his hands, begging him with languid looks. Kiyoomi reaches out and draws slow, sudsy circles in that soft hair, around and around and around, until he has Atsumu clinging to him to contend trembling thighs.

“I never want this to end,” Atsumu exhales.

Kiyoomi inhales. “Me neither.”

The words leave him in a cloud of steam, and time fades back, toothbrushes drying and clothes returning to skin and sheets pulling high to cover shoulders and chins. And when Kiyoomi opens his eyes for the first time again, Atsumu is hovering over him.

“Omi-kun?” Atsumu asks, and Kiyoomi knows what’s coming next.

“What were ya dreamin’ ‘bout?” Atsumu’s question kills the ready refusal in his throat. “You were mumblin’ and smilin’ all cute in yer sleep.”

Kiyoomi separates himself with a blanket over his face, finding comfort in the fabric, warm and clean as it hides the fire of his cheeks.

“Tell me, Omi-Omi.” Atsumu peels it away centimeter by centimeter and gives a sleepy smile. “You know I’ll get it outta ya eventually.”

His persistence is endearing among everything else.

“Do you ever want something so badly you dream about it?” Kiyoomi finds himself asking.

“All the time,” Atsumu answers, voice groggy as he presses his nose to Kiyoomi’s neck. “I dream about you every night.” 

Legs tangled in sheets and caught in each other, all Kiyoomi feels is want and hope. Someday he thought it might find him, too — sneak into his soul and give him the courage to press close in the tight space of his shower, find solace in the sharing of steam from one set of lungs to another.

Some day like today.

“Shower with me.” Kiyoomi reaches out, palm finding rest on Atsumu’s soft cheek. “Let me wash your hair.”

Atsumu’s face lights up for the first time again. But it’s not ephemeral, like a dream which blurs and fades. It’s everlasting, making home in Kiyoomi’s head and his heart in equal parts.


End file.
